


Futile

by againstallreason



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hogwarts, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24590284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/againstallreason/pseuds/againstallreason
Summary: After a mishap involving James Potter, copious amounts of alcohol and—of course—magic, Remus and Sirius experience a mind link.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Futile

“Piss off, Prongs! I’m not in the mood for you being an arsehole.”

Remus Lupin smiles behind the curtains of Sirius' bed, the dichotomy of his words and the undeniably aristocratic enunciation tugging something, tasting too much like endearment for ease, up his throat. He swallows and tugs the fabric apart.

“You heard me. Fuc—oh, Moony, it’s you,” Sirius says, lounging in his trademarked sulking position, lying on his front, legs akimbo, both arms cradling his head. The sequins on his jacket gleam like spilt oil.

“You okay?”

Sirius sits up and leans against the headboard, clutching his pillow to his chest. “Yeah, fine, just you know, tired.”

Remus sighs and joins him, cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “I haven’t seen you leave a party by choice, ever. You’re normally still drunk on the floor in the morning, unless, of course, Prongs has dragged you up here. You going to tell me what’s really wrong?” Sirius remains silent, eyes boring into the fabric of his pillow, fingers tracing its seams. It incites a flare through Remus' sternum. “It’s because I was kissing Will—because he’s a boy.”

Sirius doesn’t speak but he finally looks up, mouth agape.

And then Prongs walks in, the door slamming behind him, timed impeccably as always. He lurches to the trunk next to his bed, tosses his top hat on the floor and pulls several bottles out. Remus coughs and James turns his head skittishly towards them, a remnant of Animagus instincts that resurface whenever he’s sloshed. “I’ll just be going then,” he screeches, obviously disturbed by the churning atmosphere and sprints towards the common room.

They sit there, watching one another warily, as something heavy ensconces them like a woollen cloak on a sweltering day, extending exponentially. If Sirius asks him to stop, to never see Will again, he will, and it would barely matter. And isn’t that fucked up? He’d give up the closest thing he has to a normal, teenage relationship, and all the awkward happiness involved, at this boy’s whims. At times like this, a voice in his head murmurs, _you don’t always have to yield_ , which sounds suspiciously like Lily. Maybe he’s spending too much time with her.

He looks over to see potion ingredients for an upcoming prank all over his bed, including a small, green vial which looks like it is leaking on to his pillow; or, maybe, he isn’t spending enough time with Lily. All of his other friends—by which he means the three other Marauders—seem to be habituating the spectrum of crazy, especially now, during the height of planning for another escapade.

He supposes he can’t complain, not when James let off a bevvy of fireworks—each exploding into something more elaborate: a pumpkin, shrieking ghosts, a Muggle caricature of wizards and witches—so Remus could kiss Will uninterruptedly. It wasn’t because he was ashamed but because he wanted their first public kiss, not in a desolate classroom or a closet (and Remus knows how ironic that is), to be untainted. And it had been. Well, until one of his best friends had stormed away.

And still, the crescendo of silence, blurring the edges of his vision. Something in Remus breaks then like a bone fractured again and again, crumbling under ever-increasing pressure.

“What are you thinking about?”

Remus doesn’t answer. He can’t answer unless he wants the frustrating prickling in his eyes to become much more noticeable. Sirius tugs at Remus' elbow, pulling him up the bed until they’re just an amalgamation of limbs, Remus' head pressed to his chest, one arm strewn across his waist. And the pain abates. He can hear the thudding of Sirius' heart, reverberating. Gradually, it slows down, until his breathing and the blood pulsing through Sirius' veins are synchronised. He pulls back a little so he can see Sirius' face.

“I—it’s not because you like guys, Remus, I promise—it’s just…” Sirius pauses, biting his lower lip, and if there’s a part of Remus which wants to replay that continuously, it’s tamped down so quickly, it doesn’t really exist.

He looks so miserable that Remus just burrows his head back into the warmth of Sirius’s chest and mumbles, “Tomorrow, we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

Sirius hums gratefully and pulls his arm tighter around him. They fall asleep eventually, wrapped up in one another.

Remus wakes up to his hair being yanked by the epaulette on Sirius’ jacket and a sudden flash of blue. It is followed by manic laughter. Years of sleeping in a dorm of boys have dampened his sense of terror and he merely detangles his hair and limbs, rubs his face and creeps over to his bed. Another guffaw escapes from the vicinity of James’ bed, presumably by James himself. He casts a quick Tempus to find it’s just after 2 am. Remus pulls off his jumper, tosses it on to the growing clothes pile next to his bed and shoves everything off his bed. The various banging noises are rather gratifying. Smiling, he clambers into his bed. The sheets are crisp and he practically sinks into the mattress—Merlin, he loves Hogwarts sometimes. 

And then something damp brushes against his nape. He slams his pillow against the nearest wall and promptly falls back asleep.


End file.
